Any Way the Wind Blows
by hilarity
Summary: Remus is madly in love with Sirius Black. The only problem? Well, there are several.
1. Part I

**Any Way the Wind Blows**

_A Sad, and Often Lamentable, Tale_

_Part I: An Introduction to Problem Number the First_

Behind a stack of fourteen textbooks, and one Muggle book of poetry, sat Remus Lupin, busily finishing up the last paragraph of a rather bland two foot long parchment for Potions class. It was due in exactly sixteen hours, which meant he had procrastinated. Anyone who knew Remus, however, knew that, even within his vast vocabulary, procrastination was not a word he knew.

And that meant he had been distracted.

Distracted by something far more significant than homework, full moons, and the times when Sirius would sit on his stomach and ask him to go flying around the quidditch pitch for an hour or two (which made doing anything quite impossible).

In fact, Remus had two problems, and neither of which was the essay. And while both were, in fact, different, they were bound together by a single, overarching problem that held them together without combining them into one. Though these problems were different, they could be handled in much the same way.

Finally, he began to finish up the last sentence of the last paragraph; tongue between his teeth, brow furrowed; tawny hair hanging into his eyes as he bent low over the parchment and made sure that this last sentence was as equal in importance as the dozens above it. Soon, he was on the last few words. Three left. (He'd used a particularly good word just now, as well!) Two left, and

"'Lo, Moony." Damn it.

"Hello, Padfoot." Remus was now stuck with only one word left, because the newcomer, the aforementioned Sirius Black, had stolen his quill.

"What're you doing?" Sirius asked, seating himself on the edge of the table and looking thoroughly bored as he twirled the quill between two long fingers. Two long fingers that Remus found himself suddenly staring at.

"What does it look like I'm doing? Finishing up an es--"

"Want to go flying?"

Remus did not want to do anything other than finish up the last word of the last paragraph of the last bit of homework he had. However, telling Sirius Black this would be about as effective as informing the nearest wall that, no, he did not want to go flying, and would it please give back his quill, thank you very much.

"Now?"

"Yes, now! Come on, up you get!"

"What about James?" It was always worth it to at least try to make a last ditch effort to save himself. It was notorious for not working, however, so Remus didn't expect it to.

And it didn't.

"He's playing Exploding Snap with Peter and it's bloody boring! Let's go, let's go! Up you get, come on, then!" Sirius looked so entirely eager that he was taking on the more familiar doglike characteristics he often possessed. Remus always thought Sirius was more in-tune with his Animagi form. It would explain a lot of his more quirky behavioral patterns. Drooling, for starters.

"I'll only go if you give me back my quill," Remus said, his voice steady, his look stern. Sirius was infamous for not listening to compromises, especially when he knew he was already winning. (Somewhere someone was continuously playing an applause track, just for Sirius. And only Sirius ever seemed to hear it, but it was quite obvious that it was there. Remus had once caught Sirius bowing to what appeared to be, well, air. His excuse at the time had been something very lame and very shallow. It had been _so_ very lame and very shallow, that Remus fully remembered the response, but chose not to acknowledge that he did. In any case, the applauses usually dictated what Sirius should do.)

This time, however, Sirius jumped up and _did_ hand the quill back to Remus. (Apparently, the audience had been encouraging.) Remus, in turn, put away the parchment and the textbooks, stood up, and followed him through the castle and out onto the grounds.

That was the first mistake in a series of mistakes that would soon follow.

It was winter. That was the second mistake, and a difficult one to avoid, for sure.

The third mistake was the Remus had left his scarf inside, forgetting the chilly early evening air. When he asked Sirius if he could go retrieve it, and when Sirius gave him permission, the three mistakes combined into one in order to create one of the largest calamities of the new year, which neither of the three affected parties could have predicted, and nor would they want to, had they been able to. (And since each of the affected were failing Divination, it was obvious that they wouldn't have been able to.)

Or something.

It was all very confusing.


	2. Part II

**Any Way the Wind Blows**

_A Sad, and Often Lamentable, Tale_

_Part II: The Politics of Problem the First_

Clearly, it all began nearly six years ago, on the platform at King's Cross.

But if he was going to be politically correct about this, Remus knew that it actually began a year ago.

But who ever tries to be politically correct anymore?

The point was, this problem had been around for quite some time now, and he'd done nothing to stop its development. There was about .1% of him that regretted this. Actually, that .1% may have just been hunger. In fact, now that he was thinking about it, it _was _hunger.

All right, then. So he didn't regret any of it. But saying that made everything seem worse; like he was addicted to a drug or something equally non-Remus. Like pink knickers.

Or something.

In any case, Remus had decided that this had all started when he was a first year, innocent and virginal, sitting alone in a train compartment, wondering if he'd end up eating any of the students over the course of the next seven years.

In reality, this had all started when he was a fifth year, still fairly innocent and quite virginal, sitting in the common room and watching the fire.

Well, metaphorically.

Literally, he had been watching Sirius, who, to resort back to metaphors, was just as enthralling, just as dangerous, and just as bloody _hot_ as a fire.

Remus chose not to divulge this information to anyone, living or non-living. Sure, it would make an interesting conversation piece, and possibly be turned into a story to hand down to posterity, but Remus liked his dignity where it was, thank you very much, and he wasn't about to turn into one of those swooning fangirls who followed Sirius everywhere he went. Barring showers (that's where Remus had the advantage, and he liked to pretend to flaunt it).

To get right down to the real point, Remus liked Sirius Black. Loved him, even; a lot. Too much. Proverbial butterflies, singing angels, fireworks, trumpets (are there normally trumpets involved in this sort of thing?), colored lights, weird slow-motion shots, climactic musical numbers (where the singing angels and trumpets would come together), dizzy spells, the whole shebang.

More than anything, there were dizzy spells (and lots of blushing, which wasn't included in the list, but was there all the same--and far more noticeable).

Fine, fine. More than anything, and basically the only thing, there was the blushing.

But occasionally, there _were_ dizzy spells, though most of the time they were unrelated to anything to do with Sirius Black and his fiery good looks. And gorgeous blue eyes. And elegantly messy black hair that fell into his eyes just like so. And his jaw line, which was rather square, but not so square that he looked like some old Hit Wizard named Butch. And his height; exactly five inches above Remus, which was perfect snuggling height, really. He'd read about things like that in books.

Not that, you know, he would daydream he was Scarlett to Sirius' Rhett.

Or walk into things. Like living people.

A hand on his wrist, and Remus was thrown against the wall. Seconds later, there were lips on his.

Seconds after that, there was a loud BANG! A CRASH! And then a CRACK! And Remus J. Lupin knew that he wouldn't be retrieving his scarf; or going back outside; or even getting up the stairs to the dorms, for that matter.

He had most likely just broken his nose.

"Fuck."

A pause, as the blood flow began and increased in one go, and then:

"Fuckfuckfuckohshit."

And that was when Problem the Second reared its ugly head. ("Bloody fucking hell!")

And no, it had nothing to do with the need for plastic surgery.


	3. Part III

**Any Way the Wind Blows**

_A Sad, and Often Lamentable, Tale_

_Part III: Problem the Second Creates a Problem_

Fate began to draw back her leg in what looked like a pretty Superbowl-worthy kick.

"Cor, mate!"

That would have to be James. No one else in the entire school said things like that. It wasn't the words, or the slang, but rather how he said it; bright and cheery, as if he'd just been accepted onto a pro Quidditch team.

Remus blinked awkwardly at him through stinging eyes and a bloody nose.

"Your nose is bleeding."

"…"

"I guess I missed. Sorry."

Remus blinked again. Obviously, James hadn't really noticed the bloody nose at all. "Hosbital wing," he mumbled from behind his hands, sniffing loudly. He winced. James winced.

"Er. Where's Padfoot?"

Remus blinked at him again. "Whad?" he asked, clutching helplessly to his nose to stop the blood flow. It wasn't working, and it hurt like hell.

"Padfoot. You know. Sirius?"

"Yed I know that! I'b dot an idiot!" Remus snapped, sniffing again and giving a little yelp.

"Course not. So, er, where is he?"

"Flyig."

"Right, right. Course. Er. Moony?"

"Yed?"

"You might want to get to the hospital wing. Your nose is still bleeding."

Remus seriously considered placing an Unforgivable on James. Perhaps all three, even. Cruciatus on James' limp corpse seemed incredibly inviting right then. Truthfully, the only thing that stopped him was the fact that his hands were covering his nose. Fucking stupid nose, Remus thought angrily. How dare it prevent him from committing murder!

Remus did heed his own advice (he refused to acknowledge that James had also told him to do this, under the grounds that James was criminally insane), and hobbled off to the hospital wing, head throbbing, nose throbbing, eyes stinging.

Perhaps it would have been a more successful journey if he hadn't had the urge to sneeze.

***

Remus looked a mess when he finally got back to Gryffindor tower.

More specifically, Remus looked like a Jackson Pollock painting when he finally got back to Gryffindor tower.

Because Remus had sneezed.

Twice.

There had never been a louder cry of anguish in any of the corridors of Hogwarts since the castle had been built, and it was doubtful that there would ever be, either.

So now Remus stood in the middle of the common room, nose bruised, but the break healed (breaks, actually – never sneeze twice with a broken nose); arms across his chest as he tried to fold in on himself. He'd gotten two black eyes out of this mess, and Madam Pomfrey wouldn't heal them.

Fucking slag, Remus thought, with no real conviction behind the words. He just thought that he ought to feel indignant about _something_. Anything! But instead, all he felt was immense pain, and rather dizzy.

Good thing he hadn't decided to kill James. May have caused a few complications.

"COR, MATE!"

He ate his thoughts immediately.

James was bounding down the stairs, a lopsided grin slapped absently on his face; hair ruffled; glasses askew. Remus sighed.

"Nose broken?" James asked, not sounding at all concerned. Actually, it sounded as though he rather hoped it was.

"Was," Remus conceded reluctantly. "Pomfrey did it up, but it still hurts—DON'T TOUCH IT!" James retracted his hand.

"Come on up stairs. Padfoot'll have kittens over this!"

"Wouldn't puppies be more appropriate?" Remus muttered, too quietly for anyone to hear.

***

Sure enough, Sirius had kittens. And puppies. And pulled thousands of unknown muscles as he laughed. And laughed. And laughed.

Remus leaned heavily against one of the posts holding up the canopy above his bed. He was glad that most of his face was too bruised over to let the embarrassed blush creep through. He was currently plotting a way to commit two murders and call it a Potions Accident Gone Horribly Wrong.

Sirius was wiping tears from his eyes.

Remus sank down on his bed.

"Christ," Sirius said during a brief respite from the laughter. "Have you seen yourself yet?"

"Not yet. Wasn't actually planning on it."

"Ah, lighten up, Moony," Sirius said amiably, standing up and stretching. Remus couldn't help but notice the thin line of skin that was exposed as the taller boy's shirt hiked up.

Remus swallowed.

"Too bruised to lighten up," he said after a while, flopping down on his back, arms behind his head.

"Does it hurt much?" Sirius asked, leaning against the post that Remus had been leaning against just moments before.

"Yes."

"Did you cry?"

"Sirius!"

"What? Did you?"

"No!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes I am bloody well sure!" Remus shut his eyes. Sure, his eyes had stung and watered up, but he hadn't CRIED. Least not in the way that Sirius was implying. I mean, you can't HELP but get a bit teary eyed when part of your face fractures.

"What's wrong with you, then?"

Remus felt the sag of the mattress as Sirius sat down on the end of the bed, legs outstretched in front of him (and, Remus noticed even with closed eyes, right next to his own outstretched legs).

"James broke my nose."

"Er, I know that, mate. You feeling okay?"

This was met with toxic silence.

James looked up from his Quidditch magazine, seemingly suffering from horrible bouts of delayedreactionitis. Sure, he'd laughed and made jokes and all that, but once Remus had told Sirius just how his nose was broken, James had shut up.

It's not exactly a good thing to be accused of punching your friend in the face while your best friend laughs uproariously.

"I didn't mean to break it!" James protested. "It's just that I was, er, distracted, and you walked right in front of me and startled me and you know. Reflexes!" He demonstrated his ability to hit the air around him. Remus blinked.

"But the wall?"

"THAT was an accident, Moony!"

"And the punching wasn't?"

Again, the silence was toxic. In the distance, Remus swore that he could hear something like bubbling sewage.

"There are easier ways to break off a friendship, Prongs," Sirius told him, grinning deviously.

James snorted and went back to the magazine.

Remus delicately touched his nose. "Someone, somewhere, wants me to die."

Sirius looked at him with those piercingly blue eyes, strands of silky black fringe hanging perpetually in front of them. He grinned again (he was always grinning – it was worrying). "Nah. I reckon someone somewhere just doesn't like you very much."

If silence could be translated into words, this particular silence would have gone on longer than _War and Peace_.

"Thanks, Padf—What are you doing?"

Remus suddenly found himself pinned down by Sirius.

His head began to throb again, as did other parts of his anatomy. He tried not to look too flustered.

"I just wanted a better look," Sirius said, peering down, eyes squinted. He lifted a hand and brushed the hair from Remus' eyes.

"Ponces," someone muttered from a nearby bed. Sirius grinned over at James, gave Remus a kiss on the forehead (Remus' eye twitched), and hopped off of the bed.

"Yep. And damn proud of it, I should think!" he said.

"Speak for yourself," Remus muttered, sitting up slowly and making all sorts of pained faces as he got the urge to sneeze once more.

James looked over at him. "What do you mean?"

"What?" Remus asked, now properly slumped against his pillows.

"Well, I guess we just always thought…"

"Just always thought _what_?"

"That you were gay." James gave him a Look.

It was then, right then, that Remus was sure that someone, somewhere, was out to get him, and nothing anyone could say would convince him otherwise.


	4. Part IV

**Any Way the Wind Blows**

_A Sad, and Often Lamentable, Tale_

_Part IV: Eternal Damnation_

James Potter was the second Problem in Remus Lupin's life. It wasn't because Remus was madly in love with him – he wasn't. At all. It was more that James was always there to make sure that Remus got his daily dose of Bad Luck. Or, more specifically, his daily dose of Bad Black Luck. Or, even more specifically, his daily dose of Act like an Idiot in Front of Sirius Black and Make Him Think You Are a Submissive Little Pushover. Because You Are. No Offences Meant, Of Course.

In any case, James Potter was the main reason that Remus was still Remus, and not Remus J. "I Am Dating Hogwarts' Biggest Hunk" Lupin. It was distressing. Mostly it was distressing simply because there were many other people who _were_. And they were all females.

Which left Remus in a rather tight spot.

Actually, if he was going to be true to himself, he'd note that Sirius hadn't actually dated anyone in quite a few months. (Though it wasn't for lack of interested clients; far from it, in fact.) Remus fancied being at the top of this list, but he knew that his name wasn't even on it. Hell, he hadn't even seen the list, and as far as either party was concerned, it had nothing to do with anything Remus should ever involve himself in.

But at least he could follow Sirius into the showers without anyone suspecting. Not that he ever did, but it was fun to think about. Not that he ever did _that_, either.

Much, anyway.

"You fancy him, don't you?"

Remus tore out of a daydream, quill stuck tip-side-up into his mouth. He registered the bitter tang of India ink, and pulled a face.

"Well?" It was only then that Remus noticed James was sitting atop the desk, perched lovingly on Remus' notes. Remus looked quizzically at him, and wiped his mouth with the back of a hand. "Well if you _don't_, which you do, then prove me wrong."

"What are you on about, Pr—"

"What do you take me for, Moony?" James cut in, sliding off the desk and taking Remus' parchments with him. "I'm not an idiot, you know."

Remus made a skeptical noise at the back of his throat. James glowered at him. "And I don't fancy Sirius!" Lies. Blatant lies.

  
Remus felt rather worried.

James raised an eyebrow. "Right. Then who _do_ you fancy?"

"As if I'd be caught telling _you_!" This was true. Remus stood up, hurriedly gathered his things, and turned around to dump them in his open trunk. He turned and faced James again. "And since when is my love life an interest to you?"

"'S not," James said noncommittally, shrugging to look even more detached. "Just curious, you know. What with, you know, the incident and all. Your nose. Still feel bad about punching you, but really. Had to be done. I mean, I wasn't aiming for you, but I think it knocked some sense into you."

Remus went crimson.

James smirked. Remus wanted nothing better than to slap him into next Tuesday.

***

Sirius and Remus and James were playing chess in the common room. Actually, Sirius and James were playing chess, and Remus was strategically positioned on Sirius' side of the board, in order to help him win.

"No, Sirius," Remus said, looking over the top of a Muggle novel he was reading whilst perched on the large arm of the overstuffed armchair Sirius was slouched in. "The rook. Move the rook." He turned a page and went back to reading.

Remus was beginning to realize something rather unfortunate, however, and it was making his hands shake. James had been staring at him for the past ten or fifteen minutes. Well, not solidly, of course, but every time he'd take his turn or finish talking to Sirius, he'd look up at Remus and just stare. Remus hoped that he hadn't written 'I love Sirius Black' on his forehead. It would be so like him to do something like that without having noticed.

"Sirius," James said suddenly, making Remus start and nearly drop the book. "All right, Remus?" Remus nodded, but James had already turned his attentions towards Sirius. "Sirius," he said again, with a little more conviction this time.

"What?" came Sirius' nonchalant reply as he brushed a few stay black hairs out of his eyes. Remus didn't watch. "Did I win?" Remus dutifully turned another page as if he'd been reading – he hadn't.

"No, Padfoot."

"Oh."

"SIRIUS!"

"WHAT?!"

"Bet you'll never guess what Remus was doing yesterday when, er, I accidentally punched him," James said, looking smug as Remus lowered the book and proceeded to look horrified. Sirius made a distracted noise at the back of his throat before the words registered. He looked up sharply.

"What?" he asked sounding quite curious.

Remus could already feel the blush taking control of his face. He sank down lower on the arm of the chair.

"Things you'd never guess ole Moony here was capable of doing!" James looked even more smug as Sirius whipped around to look at Remus, who nearly fell off the chair. "He was kissing someone!"

There was a loud thud as Remus hit the floor.

***

"I swear, James Potter, if you've gone and killed him—"

"I have _not_ bloody gone and _killed_ him!"

"Look at him!"

"I _am_!"

"Looks dead if you ask me!"

"Well, no one asked_ you_, did they?!"

"_Shut up! _Both of you!"

And they did.

***

Remus hadn't asked for the bruise on the back of his head, or the splitting headache, or the woozy feeling he got when he stood up. He hadn't asked for Potions and his textbooks, or the jumper his mother had sent him for Christmas. He most especially hadn't asked for Sirius and James to deliver all of these items to him as he lay on, what Sirius thought of as the Death Bed.

"I'm not dying," he told Sirius for the twelfth consecutive time in the last thirty three seconds. He groaned aloud when Sirius just gave him that annoying parental look that says; you're obviously suffering from bouts of hallucinations. Sleep for the next few weeks while I force feed you chicken broth.

"Fine, fine!" Remus gave in. "I'm dying. Happy now?"

"Good boy."

Remus wondered what sort of a sadistic society he had been thrown into.

Perhaps this was Hell. Yes, that was it. This was Hell, and Sirius was the Devil, and James was that door-to-door salesman whom you'd shot with one of the rifles he was selling. (It had been an accident at the time, but later you came to realize that those dreams you'd had -- the ones about guns and salespeople -- had finally stopped. And unfortunately, this particular door-to-door salesman hadn't been used to pave any roads.)

So that was it. Remus was eternally damned.

"You snogged a boy."

Hell was a thousand times worse than Remus could have ever imagined.


	5. Part V

**Any Way the Wind Blows**

_A Sad, and Often Lamentable, Tale_

_Part V: Divine Intervention_

Sirius had been raving for exactly eleven minutes and eighteen seconds.

"And—and—a BOY!?"

"You've kissed me before." Don't make it sound so significant, Lupin, thought Remus bitterly. It was only on the forehead.

The other infamous trait of Sirius Black was his ability to retort as though the flames of hell were licking at his heels. And when he couldn't come up with something (but more often than not he did), he'd have a good long sulk about it, which was almost just as bad.

"Yes, well, that's different! You're—you're—you're _Remus_!" This seemed to explain everything, in Sirius' humble opinion.

Yes, Remus thought. I_ am_ Remus. "Er, right."

Sirius shot him a Look. Remus rolled his eyes. "And besides, of all the boys you _could _have picked, you chose _Snivellus_?!" Sirius visibly shuddered, and Remus winced at the way he said the nickname, as though it was covered in slime.

"I hardly chose--"

"SNIVELLUS! This is nearly grounds for going through the bloody full moons alone!"

The silence that followed the statement was almost palpable. Remus paled several shades of white before all of his color came back in a flourish, redder and angrier than before.

There are many threats that Marauders could make to each other; not copying homework, squealing about a prank, and even hexing each other for good fun. However, there was area that no man was allowed to use against another, and it included anything pertaining to the full moon.

If Sirius hadn't realized why before, he was certainly about to find out now.

"Even if I _had_ chosen Severus, which, I will have you know, I did _not_! He is still a far better boy than you'll ever even hope to be! Tell me, Sirius, why exactly you think I ought to be punished for something that had nothing to do with you?!"

This was one of those times when Sirius had no retort, so he began to sulk. Loudly.

"That's exactly what I thought! No rationale behind the IDIOTIC games you play with people. If you don't get what you want, or if someone else gets what you want," Sirius made an indignant noise, and Remus held up a hand. "If you can't get your way, no one else can, either, isn't that right? You'd rather have the ENTIRE BLOODY SCHOOL bowing down to your EVERY BLOODY NEED than to spend at least ONE BLOODY MINUTE thinking of someone BEFORE YOURSELF!"

Remus stood up, and even his small frame was terribly menacing. Sirius stepped back without prompting, though it was probably to save his life. "You are absolutely HORRID! What did Severus kissing me to do you, eh? YOU DIDN'T EVEN KNOW UNTIL JAMES TOLD YOU!"

Sirius had now backed into a desk, looking like a sulking deer caught in headlights. A sulking deer who knows that he _deserves_ to be caught in headlights, but refuses to agree with itself on the matter. "Jesus, Remus! Calm down!"

"Why shouldn't I get my turn to yell? Why is it always you yelling at me, or you yelling at James, or you yelling at Peter? I think that, judging from everything you've ever done, it's about time you got yelled at, too!"

The door slammed. Remus instantly felt guilty. But feeling guilty made him more irritated than he had been before. Sirius _deserved_ every word Remus had said!

Didn't he?

Of course he did!

Remus kicked the couch for good measure as he passed through the common room, heading for the portrait hole, and ultimately the library.

To accompany the echoing footfalls on the flagstone floor beneath him, Remus decided to review the Incident in his mind, because he'd been terribly brief about it before. It's just that it seemed to happen so quickly! In reality, it was much longer. (Well, not much, but longer than ten seconds.)

***

Remus had just walked into the school when that cold hand grabbed onto his wrist and pulled him aside. He'd looked up and seen Severus standing directly in front of him, scowl in place, but unusually edgy. Remus had shifted awkwardly, and Severus had muttered something and closed in.

  
That's when it happened.

James had shouted, Severus had disappeared, and James had, not realizing his mistake at the time, punched Remus then pushed him against the adjacent wall.

That's when he discovered that Snape had, in fact, left.

Back to the present, Remus wondered what exactly Severus had said, but he didn't get much time, as suddenly the aforementioned boy was standing in front of him again.

"Er," Remus said, by way of a greeting. Severus eyed him warily. "Um," Remus finished, when he couldn't think of anything else to say.

"He hit you," Severus informed him, voice quiet and shielded by the mass of greasy, black hair that hung around his chin. Remus blinked, but nodded. Whatever Severus said next, Remus didn't catch, because someone was shouting.

"Get away from him!" That would have to be Sirius. Remus groaned.

"You'd better go," he told Severus. The boy nodded, reluctantly of course, but nodded just the same. "Go," Remus had to add, when Severus made no actual movement to leave. He placed a hand on the boy's arm, and felt him tense.

Remus had to turn around, because Sirius, a raging ball of sputtering anger, was right behind him. "Don't!" Remus hissed, and when he turned to make sure Severus was far enough away, the boy was already gone.

"You idiot!" Sirius looked taken aback; a greater part of him looking almost sorry. Remus disregarded the greater part. "What's he done to you? Why must you always be such a, such a…" Remus was grappling for words.

"Idiot?" provided Sirius. Remus glared at him, and took him by the arm. Sirius stumbled over his feet as he was turned abruptly back in the direction he came from, Remus pulling him along.

***

It took some time for Sirius to fall into step beside Remus, but he managed to right before the reached the portrait hole; at which time, however, Remus let go and proceeded into the common room alone. Sirius slouched and began to sulk again before he decided that the best course of action would be to actually enter Gryffindor tower.

"Ow." Obviously, he had waited too long.

"OW!"

"Sorry. Aren't you coming in?" Remus didn't look sorry in the least.

"The portrait shut."

"You could have just said the password, Sirius." A moment of silence. "Please tell me that you know the password."

"I _know_ the password!" Sirius snapped, and he pushed past Remus, stomping off in his full indignant glory, in direction of the dorms.

Remus wondered when he'd decided that he wasn't angry at Sirius anymore.

***

"Not here." Remus blinked as Sirius turned away from the dorms, pressing a hand squarely against the slighter boy's chest as he pushed him backwards. Remus flailed out his arms, hoping that Sirius wasn't trying to pitch him down the stairs. (And also hoping that the fact his heart rate had sped up wasn't noticeable to anyone but himself.)

"Er, what?"

"Not here!" Sirius reiterated through gritted teeth, turning Remus around and shoving him down the stairs. Remus stumbled and absently uttered a curse word.

"What are you on about?" Remus demanded as he managed to vacate the staircase – still living – and turned around to look at Sirius. Sirius shoved him forward (or backward, as the case was). Remus made a surprised little noise and hit an armchair. "What are you—?"

He didn't get to finish, for his mouth was suddenly occupied in an activity that was far more significant than talking.

Remus Lupin's mouth was occupied by Sirius Black's mouth.

Obviously, this was why he'd decided he wasn't angry at Sirius anymore.


	6. Part VI

**Any Way the Wind Blows**

_A Sad, and Often Lamentable, Tale_

_Part VI: Why, logically, James is God_

Remus is tired. The full moon is in a week, and already his entire body aches and groans as he goes about his daily routines. The daily routine is mostly what made this incessant lethargy and pain reduce itself into something far more tolerable.

Kissing Sirius Black was _not_, and had _never been_, a part of Remus' daily routine. This was more or less the reason why he found himself pushing Sirius away, stumbling back into the sofa as he tried to find his balance.

Kissing Sirius Black had knocked his entire world askew.

Kissing Sirius Black had knocked the wind from his lungs.

Kissing Sirius Black felt really, really good.

Kissing Sirius Black felt really, really bad.

Kissing Sirius Black in the common room was really, really stupid.

Above the din of his heart (which was beating quite rapidly, thank you very much), Remus could pick out the snickers, gasps, and astounded noises of the other inhabitants of the common room. His face reddened twelve shades of pink, before all of the color drained completely, leaving him sickly white.

Sirius was staring at him, unflustered by the looks they were getting; unbothered by the laughter and the cat calls; uninhibited by the inevitable weeks of torment to come. Rather, he was simply staring at Remus, as if Remus was the only thing there was to look at; the only piece of sanity left in a world gone without.

It made Remus nervous, so he looked at the floor. The floor made Remus nervous, so he looked at the wall. The wall made Remus nervous, so he looked at the ceiling. The ceiling made Remus nervous, so he looked at Sirius.

"Please don't ever do that again!" It was a pleading and desperate cry to not be ridiculed. It was a pleading and desperate cry to stop the hurting – because it _did_ hurt!

"What?" Incredulous, Remus could pick out. Sirius' voice was utterly incredulous. Obviously, he had not been turned down often.

"Don't kiss me again. Please." Incredulity, the kind that was so obvious in the boy's voice, planted itself firmly in Sirius' gaze. Remus looked back at the floor, but had turned and left the common room before any nervousness could return.

***

Couldn't he just accept a sodding good thing when he got one? Remus had never regretted anything more in his entire life than this moment; the moment, not three minutes after the rejection, when he'd slammed the door to the dormitories, and flopped down on his bed.

It had now been an hour. Two, maybe. Remus hadn't left the dorm, and no one had come in. Obviously, Sirius was sulking, James was helping him, and Peter was helping James. Remus would soon be confronted by the stag and his rat, and there would be a thick layer of guilt spread over him like the lake water. Cold, and filled with undesirable things. (But hopefully not Merfolk, as the Mermaid in the Prefect's Bathroom was bad enough. You never could tell, though, what James would bring in.)

Remus thought they ought to skip the stage of guilt trips, as Remus _already_ felt guilty. Sirius had _kissed him_. Kissed him in front of at least eight other students, as well. Risked his reputation, his credibility, all future dates, _everything_! (Ironically, his reputation, credibility, and cache of dates _were_ everything.)

The homework in Charms had been an essay. Remus decided that practical experience was more important. Thus, he'd have to remember to write his mother and tell her that he'd be needing a new uniform, books, and chocolates (he'd eaten them all) before the end of the week.

There would be problems if he didn't. Reparo could only do so much.

***

For five seconds, and maybe not even that long, Remus had been Remus J. "I'm Dating Hogwarts' Biggest Hunk" Lupin. Unofficially, of course, but it had still happened.

Now he was back to being Remus John Lupin, which wasn't nearly as exciting. Or motivating.

"What's wrong with you?"

Remus, splayed across his bed as if he had been dropped there from a great height, groaned. "I hate my middle name."

James raised an eyebrow so loudly that Remus was almost deafened by it.

"Shut up," he added when the eyebrow refused to.

"Er, I didn't say anything, mate."

"Don't look at me like that."

"You can't even see me, and I'm not the pillow."

"A boy can detest his middle name."

"Never said he couldn't."

"John is boring."

"Better than Godric."

"But is Godric boring?"

"Well, er, not exactly, but _Godric_! I mean, come on! A nickname for that'd be like God or something."

There was a pause, during which James seriously considered using the nickname God, a profession that he always thought himself worthy of, and Remus considered changing his middle name to Jay. Or simply leaving it at J.

"There is no way in Hell I'm calling you God."

James made an indignant noise and then started to speak, but Remus cut him off. "Make any remark about Hell and God, and I will personally make sure that you experience Hell before you experience God. Do I make myself clear?"

"If you're going to call me anything other 'n James, call me Merlin."

***

Sirius is angry.

No, Sirius isn't simply _angry_. Angry implies something along the lines of extraordinarily pissed off. No, Sirius isn't just angry; Sirius is _livid_. Sirius is livid because he has been utterly_ humiliated_ in front of his peers. Sirius is livid because he has been _rejected_. Been rejected by _Remus_, no less, which stands as something more insulting than he'd like to admit.

There are sniggers behind hands and books as he leaves the common room; his name disgraced, his reputation ruined.

He was now a ponce, a poof, a pansy, a queer, an arse pirate, a shirt lifter, and had just labeled himself as such _in front of an entire room filled with his classmates_! (It would have been an honor to be a ponce, a poof, a pansy, a queer, an arse pirate, and a shirt lifter, if he and Remus were still in the common room snogging each other senseless.)

After hitting his head against the cold stone wall of an abandoned corridor, thoughts suddenly began to mingle together in his dazed mind, and Sirius realized his mistake. Or, at least, his own perception of his mistake.

First of all, and this was the only semi-accurate part, Remus was quiet. Remus had always been quiet, and Remus would always _be_ quiet. It was half the reason why the boy was so incredibly enticing, and half of why they'd become friends in the first place. (After Sirius had set off dungbombs in Remus' trunk, anyway. But that was James' idea, really – they wanted to know if Remus could even speak. It was discovered that, yes, he could, and with excellent emphasis on swear words. They were fast friends three minutes later.)

Remus would never go snogging random boys – or anyone, for that matter – on his own accord, and especially not in front of people. Sirius had obviously made him nervous or scared. It was understandable, and obviously Remus would come to his right mind in a more secluded environment.

Second of all, and this is where Sirius' "logic" came into play, Remus was obviously madly in love with Severus Snape, and somehow that was Snape's fault, so Snape would have to pay. Clearly, he'd had some sort of potion with him when he kissed Remus, so counters to love spells would have to be conjured up immediately. James and Peter were to know nothing about this.

It would be embarrassing.

But the matter at hand was what to do about Snape, and Sirius' mind was whirring with ideas when one struck him directly in the gut.

He grinned, and went off to find Peter.


	7. Part VII

**Any Way the Wind Blows**

_A Sad, and Often Lamentable, Tale_

_Part VII: The Meaning of Unluck_

Peter had sworn he wouldn't tell anyone, except James, if the stupid git could be found. Peter had also gone so incredibly excited over the secret plan that Sirius had wanted him – _him_! Peter Pettigrew! – to be a part of, that he nearly shouted the plans out in the middle of the library.

Sirius thinks that his plan is genius. A foolproof trap for a miserable human being unfit to walk the same halls as himself and his friends. Especially Remus.

Sirius thinks that nothing can go wrong. As long as Peter keeps quiet, there are only six more days to wait, and the new Problem in Sirius' life will be out of the way, and Remus will undoubtedly be his. His and not Snape's. (Besides, Snape is greasy, and Sirius is not.)

***

On Tuesday, James is sulking because Lily Evans has turned him down. Again. Except that now times are getting desperate, and he has put all of his free time to, well, pranks, but also to creating surefire ways to woo Lily into his arms.

So far, he is zero for twelve. However, he isn't going to give up. He is James "Prongs, aka Merlin, aka God" Godric Potter, after all!

On Wednesday, James is zero for thirteen.

On Thursday, Sirius tries to tell him something, but James is zero for fourteen, and doesn't have the time to listen. Besides, he's trained the First Years to call him God, and has started to take on the more infamous qualities of his new nickname. Including the ability to ignore people no matter how many times they throw dungbombs at you.

On Friday, Sirius won't leave him alone, but Lily is which could only mean that James is now zero for fifteen. He locks himself in an empty classroom, and Sirius gives up and leaves.

On Saturday, James emerges from the classroom. He'd fallen asleep, and had just lost the opportunity to execute his next plan. He is now zero for sixteen, and is more determined than ever. As is Sirius, it seemed, because he follows him everywhere.

James hexes his hair pink, and Sirius runs, horrified, back to the dorms.

On Sunday, thoughts of the full moon override thoughts of Lily Evans just for the moment. James is zero for twenty four by this point, but there is a Remus to worry about. Tomorrow, he'll cry himself sick and then go drown in pints of butterbeer.

Today, he will be an illegal Animagus, and run around with an unregistered werewolf.

Well, tonight. Today, he will avoid Sirius, who is looking to exact his revenge for the pink hair.

***

At exactly 10:34 AM on Sunday morning, Remus Lupin realized that Sirius hadn't deserved to be pushed away. He did, however, deserved to be pushed into a wall and snogged senseless.

So he was.

And no one was there to see it except the two of them.

***

"Okay," Sirius said, voice low in case of any intruders. Peter bounced nervously in front of him, looking uneasy and slightly tense. "Worms, remember what we went over, right?" Peter nodded vehemently. Sirius nodded once. "Brilliant. Okay, so, I'll give you the signal when he – Shit! Now now now!"

Peter squeaked and blanched.

"Madam Pomfrey should be taking him out there soon, right?"

Peter looked confused for a moment, but mysterious footfalls that suddenly halted brought him back to reality. That and Sirius' jab to his ribs. "Oh! Yeah, yeah I reckon. How'd they get in there without getting, uh, hit?" Sirius gave Peter a warning look. "Cause, you know…"

"You have to press a knot at the base. Don't tell anyone. I only know because I saw them do it. Anyway, there's a knot at the base, and you take a stick and you press it, and the tree just stops moving. Wicked brilliant and all! Then this door opens, and they go inside. And that's where he goes."

There was a very awkward pause. Sirius coughed, and Peter squeaked again. "Oh, sorry! Er, so Remus goes into a tree every month?"

Sirius shrugged. "Sure does. Dunno what he does, but it must be pretty damn important."

Peter nodded thoughtfully, but was grinning deviously. Sirius winked at him. "Come on, mate. Let's go raid the kitchen, yeah?" Peter nodded, and turned around, Sirius falling into step beside him.

"Snivellus," Sirius greeted silkily as they passed the boy listening in around the corner. Sirius and Peter didn't stop until they'd reached one of the passages which would take them to another passage, which would take them to the kitchen.

"He'll never know what got him," Peter whispered loudly. Sirius chuckled appreciatively.

"Sure won't. This'll be brill, mate. Simply brill."

***

Upon returning to the dorm room, Sirius found James fumbling through his trunk looking for the invisibility cloak. Books and socks and old quills were being thrown in every direction imaginable, before Sirius cleared his throat.

"Where the bloody fuck is it?" James exclaimed, righting himself and glaring at Sirius. "You had it last! For the Prewett thing we pulled last week. Remember?"

Sirius thought for a moment. Prewett thing, Prewett thing… "Oh, right! When we gave Gideon that potion and he turned --"

"Right. Now where's the bloody cloak, you tosser?" James ran a hand through his wild shock of black hair, looking expectant, but annoyed.

In truth, Sirius had hidden it under his bed in order to delay the trip until his prank on Snape was complete. But James didn't know, because he'd been too busy going mad over that Evans bird to care. "I've got something wicked to tell you first!"

"But it's getting dark! We have to be out there in ten minutes! Where is the fucking cloak? And where's Peter?"

Peter was still in the kitchen. The cloak was spending quality time with the dust bunnies.

"Listen to me first, Prongs! I've been trying to tell you this all week! It's fantastic!"

"Oh, fucking hell, _what_?!" James snapped, turning his attention back to finding the cloak. "If Dad finds out I've lost it, he'll go spare at me!"

"Snape is going to get a surprise tonight!" Sirius began, flopping elegantly on his bed. "Best prank I'll have ever pulled."

"It was my great-great-great-great-great…"

"Peter 'n I pretended to have this conversation about where Remus goes every month."

"…great-great-great-great-great-great-great…"

"Cause I knew that ole Snivelly goes and does some sort of extra Potions work on Sunday evenings after dinner. I kept running into him after Quidditch practice and all."

"…great-great—Oh, was that why you always came back from the pitch with a bloody nose. I wondered if you weren't punching yourself in the locker rooms or summat."

Sirius waved a hand. "Nah, but listen, because we're running out of time! Peter 'n I talked about how to get to where Remus is. I figure, Snivellus being who he is, he'll go and try to find out. Slimy git. And when he does…" Sirius made a rather disgusting sound effect.

There was utter and complete silence.

It should be stated that Sirius rarely thinks things through.

"You _WHAT_?!"

It should also be stated that Sirius doesn't understand the concept of consequences, even though he held the Hogwarts detention record. Hell, he'd CREATED the record in the first place.

"It's the perfect trap!"

It should also be stated that Sirius is as smart as they come, but lacking any and all common sense.

"YOU FUCKING MORON! DO YOU UNDERSTAND WHAT YOU'VE –SNAPE IS GOING TO TELL EVERYONE! REMUS IS A _WEREWOLF_, YOU GIT! _WEREWOLVES EAT HUMANS!_"

However, for the record, Sirius _does_ care about his friends. His pride often obscures the view, but he can usually see past it once given enough of a reason.

"…er."

He has a brain; he just tends not to use it.

"Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck."

He tends to act on his emotions, and his emotions tend to override his sanity.

"Where'd James go running off—Sirius?"

It's lucky that James understands this.

"Sirius? Where'd you go?"

It's unlucky that Remus doesn't.


	8. Part VIII

**Any Way the Wind Blows**

_A Sad, and Often Lamentable, Tale_

_Part VIII: Evidence of Sirius' Inability to Process Thought_

Remus had tasted like chocolate. Like chocolate and peppermint tea, and ink and books and parchment and everything that Remus was, all mixed into one. Remus tasted exactly like Sirius imagined he would, and he felt even better. Remus was warm. Warm and lithe and delicate, yet far stronger than he had even realized before.

Now he knew that he'd never get a chance to taste or feel him again, and that was the continuing thought spinning through Sirius' head as he cowered in the dorm, trying to ignore the screaming in his head, the echoes of the dormitory door as James slammed it and ran, the pounding of blood in his ears, and the continuous "Boo-ing" from his inner-audience.

Remus was a _werewolf_.

Werewolves who _kill _or_ maim_ are locked up.

Or executed.

And most definitely expelled.

But, really, in Sirius' mind, Severus Snape deserved any and all injury that greeted him in the passage under the Whomping Willow.

But Remus. Remus was, well, _Remus_, which was reason enough to make Sirius wonder why _he_ deserved to be a part of this. That wasn't just a werewolf. That was _Remus_.

But hate overshadows, and in this instance hate painted Sirius' entire world black, and at this point, hiding from it was all he could do.

Remus would _hate_ him.

If Remus didn't end up in Azkaban, he would _hate _Sirius.

If Remus bit Snape, he'd hate _himself_. Sirius was enough of a friend to realize how Remus' mind worked in certain situations.

A door opened, a light filtered in, and James stood shaking and white, dirt on his hands and face, and a gash wound across his cheek. His glasses were bent; the left lens was cracked. "You'd better come, Sirius," he said.

Sirius had never been more afraid in his entire life, and if he had been Padfoot, his tail would have been permanently stuck between his legs.

"Sirius," Remus had said. Sirius hadn't looked up until he felt a hand on his shoulder; jolts of electricity had shot up his arm at the touch. "Sirius, I'm sorry."

"'S okay." Sirius had shrugged, and felt Remus' hand tense; felt Remus' fingers; felt the warmth they left when that hand finally retracted…

"Look at me."

…and found Sirius' chin, tilting his head up. "Please?" Remus' eyes, when Sirius had finally looked up, were imploring, apologetic, and yet guarded, as if he was waiting for Sirius to lash out.

"What's there to say," Sirius had said, and moved his head sharply away as he stood up. Remus had stepped back.

"I didn't mean—I didn't want…I didn't mean what I said," Remus had begun, taking a few more steps backwards. Sirius, though he was turned away, could feel Remus' gaze boring holes into his back. "I was just—Oh, I don't know, maybe I thought it was too good to be true."

Sirius' ears perked up at this. Too good? Why, yes, Sirius had been known as being too good. This hadn't surprised him in the least, and he tried to convince himself that he knew Remus meant it all along.

"Because, and this is really rather trite, but, I've…wanted you to do that. For a very long time." Sirius could feel the air move as Remus moved; could feel him standing closer, and if he concentrated hard enough, could almost feel the warmth Remus projected.

The last bit had been like a whisper – lost in a huff of breath that was more nervous than Remus would like to have known it sounded.

"I love you."

Love. Love is a very strong word. Sirius hadn't known real love, he always supposed, because his family wasn't Love. And the tarts he'd dated, and blokes he'd snogged, certainly weren't Love, either.

But Remus. Remus could be Love.

Remus had definitely been embarrassed by this confession, because as soon as Sirius turned around to say something – though he wasn't sure what – Remus had him pinned to the wall, warm lips on his, and a warm weight against his body.

Yes. Remus could definitely be Love.

"Inexcusable!" Professor McGonagall's voice trilled from the open door to Dumbledore's office, and Sirius was snapped painfully back into reality. There was no more Remus. No more Love. No more potential Love that was Remus. It was gone. Withered and blown away.

And it was his sodding fault.

Sirius would have sulked, had his terror been willing to share the emotional space.

"Both boys are CLEARLY at fault!"

"Mr. Black." Dumbledore's voice ended McGonagall's rampage, but Sirius knew that this was only a temporary occurrence. "Sit." The gleam was not apparent in the wizened professor's eyes; they were hard and cold behind his half-moon spectacles. This did not bode well for Sirius. "Mr. Snape shall be joining you shortly. Until then, perhaps you'd like a lemon drop?"

Sirius would have cried, but he was too busy remembering how to breathe.

Remus was sore, and dizzy, and aching, and the floor was cold, and the wood of the Shack was creaking loudly in his ears. In his mind, fuzzy and numb from the hours of being Moony, and not Remus, fragments of images and smells and noises came back to him. There had been a human here, last night. He could remember the smell. He could remember the hunger, the aching want, and the harsh denial as the door shut, and the smell stayed, but the human was gone.

Remus' throat was sore and dry and cracked, and he was almost certain that his voice would be gone; he must have howled for ages.

He thought it had all been a dream. Or a nightmare, really, which was far more appropriate, anyway. There had been no Prongs, no Padfoot, and no Wormtail. There had just been Moony; trapped in the derelict shack with a source of food brought to him – then taken away.

Stricken with a sudden bout of paranoia and terror over the entire situation, because quite clearly that human had _not_ been one of his friends, Remus tried to stand up, but found that he couldn't. Gashes and scratches and bite marks lined his body, and realized just what had happened after that human had left.

He had turned on _himself_.

With a silent cry of rage, as his lungs stung with the effort of simply breathing, and shouting was far beyond and out of the question, Remus hoisted himself up onto his elbows, and grabbed hold of one of the posts supporting the ragged canopy over the old bed, pulling himself up into a standing position.

Normally, Sirius or James got him back into bed. Before Sirius or James were with, Madam Pomfrey would arrive at the end of the full moon, and make sure he got there. Since he'd been in bed – fast asleep and quite alone – after every full moon for the last two years, Pomfrey no longer came until the sun rose.

Slumping back onto the dusty bed, Remus wondered where everyone was that was so much more important than being here.

Then he chided himself for being so incredibly selfish.

"He _wouldn't_!"

"Mr. Lupin, I assure you that I wouldn't tell you this if it were not of the utmost truth. And perhaps not even then. But I have heard it from the mouths of the parties involved, and it is indeed true." Professor Dumbledore, looking tired and far older than his appearance ever let on to, was seated next to the small hospital cot that Remus was laying in.

Or rather, sitting up in. Despite the gravity of his injuries, and the fatigue that his slight body felt, he could do nothing. He refused to believe the words that Dumbledore had just spoken. Sirius? Tell Severus Snape? About _him_?

"But he wouldn't! Sirius wouldn't! He swore to me—he and James and Peter—they swore to me that they wouldn't! And he wouldn't!"

Dumbledore raised up one hand; the long fingers indicating that Remus needed to calm down. "I know it must be difficult to comprehend why—"

"If you'll excuse me, Professor Dumbledore, you don't know Sirius like I do, and I promise you that he'd never tell anyone, especially not Severus—"

"Sirius seemed to use the excuse of protecting you as his main mode of argument."

Remus swallowed, realized exactly why Sirius would do something like this (which came in a flash of blinding white light that Remus had hoped would actually blind him), and moved his gaze from Dumbledore to the wall across the room.

"Albus, do you think you could have this talk with him later? He needs his rest, and—"

"No, Poppy, I'm afraid that I can't! And Severus has given me his word—and his word I trust most heartily—that he will not tell another living soul about you, or risk expulsion. The same goes for Mr. Black. Save for Mr. Snape, your secret remains just as secret as ever before."

Remus made a strangled noise as he fell back against the pillows, wincing as it jarred the fresh wounds on his sides. Since when was the studio audience allowed to tell the protagonist to ruin the life of one of his closest friends? And since when was the protagonist actually supposed to listen?

"What the hell were you _thinking_, Padfoot?" James, sprawled out on his bed, propped up on his elbows, is staring at Sirius, who hovers near the door, face ashen, hands trembling.

"I wasn't!"

"That much is obvious," James mutters, and flips onto his stomach so he doesn't have to see the look of anger that flashes across Sirius' face. "Love 'em and leave 'em," he adds. Sirius kicks the desk, sending books and parchment and quills falling onto the floor.

"I didn't mean—I thought—It wasn't supposed to happen like this," Sirius mumbles, and it is muffled by the stale air in the room.

James flips back around, glaring at Sirius behind his newly repaired glasses. "What the fuck did you _think_ would happen, eh?"

Exactly what had.

"Er, I…"

James snorted, smiled bitterly, and got up. "Raiding the kitchens. See you tomorrow."

"If Remus doesn't find me first."

"I doubt Remus will want to have anything to do with you, even your premature death. Ta, mate." The door began to close, but was quickly opened again as James poked his wild head of hair back into the room.

"Oh, and I don't hate you or anything, Sirius, but don't expect the same from Remus, I reckon."

**A/N:** It. She. That. The thing. The author…well, it SPEAKS! Felt quite compelled to, because I'm a generally wordy person, and I can't resist a moment to be verbose.

In any case, CONFUSION is good for this story. Confusion is good, because nothing makes any sense at this point, and really, nothing should, save for a few concrete things. The prank. The Snape Snog (although that's still foggy – will all be gone over later). The confusion is there on purpose. Don't worry or try to figure things out. You haven't missed anything – I merely haven't provided it.

Yet.

Also, on the subject of formatting, perhaps this story isn't loading properly on some computers? It's formatted just like any other. Paragraphs, one liners because I'm a sook like that, etc. I can't explain it if it doesn't show up properly, but I link these chapters on my livejournal as well, so you can see them there if the formatting here is fucked or something. (hi1arity.livejournal.com)

(Also, to the journal you will HAVE to journey for future chapters, as the ones posted here will inevitably become "kid friendly," whilst the ones in my journal will be the real, raw, naughty ones. No more on that subject. Don't want to give myself away, though I'm sure I just have.)

Many thanks to all who have reviewed.


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